


The Party That Wasn't

by Hannigrammatic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Blushing, Crushes, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 05:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: My submission for #ThePumpkinIsPeople! 
Will is nursing a crush on his friend and not-quite-psychiatrist.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibalcreative continues to be a source of unending inspiration<3 I'm incredibly sick -still-, so if this reads funny, I'm sorry<3 I just wanted to submit something small and cute, and to keep my writing going in some way. I'm struggling with my thought processes thanks to a rude fever, so it's unfortunately hard to do much lately :(
> 
> Love you all<3
> 
> (Not beta read!)

Will finds himself excited for Halloween for the first time in many years. 

As a kid, he only joined in on the festivities once or twice. His father hardly ever wanted to take him trick-or-treating, nor did he want Will to go alone. That left him to either hand out candy, if he felt like leaving the sanctuary of his room, or to avoid the night altogether, snuggled beneath his blankets with a book to read.

This year, he won't get any kids ringing his doorbell, done up in spooky costumes. He isn’t going to take anyone out, as he’s a single man with no children, and much too old to go seeking candy from strangers.

Instead -and here’s where the excitement originates from-, he has been invited to a Halloween party.

In college, he hadn’t partaken of the endless parties thrown, holiday or not. Instead, he grew older, graduated, attained his job as a cop and then later as an FBI profiler, and forgot about Halloween entirely (unless some twisted individual happened to kill that night and leave a body for them to find, prompting him to acknowledge all the tacky decorations in the neighborhoods he passed on his way to the crime scene -and the children running about unknowing, bags held out to accept their loot.) 

This year, he receives an invitation while at work, lounging about after a closed case that hadn’t left any lasting impressions on him. It comes in the form of a well-dressed man, one pale brow raised as if he expects Will to turn him down but pressing on regardless.

“-a small get-together, including a few of our fellow coworkers,” Hannibal Lecter speaks, seeking eye contact that Will skillfully evades. “Tonight, at seven-thirty. Perhaps I can tempt you to join?”

His polite refusal is on the tip of his tongue, and he opens his mouth to answer; “Sure. Sounds like a good time.”

What? (the party, or the man tempting him…?)

“Splendid,” Hannibal actually claps his hands together once, voice pleased.

Will watches the man walk away, mildly stricken. Any part of him clammering for sense fades quickly when his eyes drop lower, Hannibal’s slim, well-fit form almost sashaying before he turns the corner. The blush that covers the FBI profiler’s cheeks is still strong when he escapes the BAU and slams the door shut on his old Volvo.

His crush on Hannibal, his would-be psychiatrist and mutually acclaimed friend, is apparently still going strong too.

That realization reminds Will, once more, that he’s not a kid or a teen: he’s approaching forty, for god’s sake. And yet -here he is, face nearly planted entirely on the steering wheel, embarrassment flooding his veins and his thoughts. His fingers clench the leather where they grasp, knuckles white. Eventually, he sits up and starts the car, and then begins the long drive home to get ready for the party.

* * 

Will doesn’t realize until he’s dressed and on the road again, dogs fed and settled into their beds, that Halloween generally involves dressing up. It’s early enough in the evening that he could pick up something simple, albeit cheesy. He attempts to imagine what that would entail, and then dismisses the thought altogether, making light of the situation and the fact that him wearing nice clothes could be considered a costume at any rate. So he rings Hannibal’s doorbell ten minutes before the stated time, and tries not to smile too stupidly when the man greets him.

“Will, it’s good to see you,” the man’s teeth glint in the harsh lights coming off the street. “Come in, come in.” 

Hannibal takes Will’s coat after the younger man tugs it off, hangs it up, and then appraises him with a small smile. Will meets the man’s gaze for a second before he turns away bodily, mind reeling. His oh-so-well-dressed friend looks impeccable as always, not a hair out of place. He smells fantastic, as well. A mixture of pumpkin spice and something that Will can only describe as _warm_ , oddly enough.

The house is decorated in a macabre way, if Will had to put a word to it. He has been here once before, and the same as then, his sight is limited to the front hallway, the kitchen, and the dining room, and all of the strange trinkets and paintings in between. Inwardly, he wonders at his gentle urge to see more of the huge home, and suppresses it quickly when the owner stops just ahead of him.

“I have a confession to make,”Hannibal says, and Will’s feels his stomach drop a bit while his heart begins to race. “I did not intend for this evening to be shared with anyone but you.”

“Oh?” Will somehow manages to speak without choking on his words. His mind is a little clouded, and it takes him far too long to catch up with what Hannibal is saying. “Wait. What?”

_I’m the epitome of intelligent_ , he thinks.

“I understand that it’s childish,” the man continues. “But as soon as I saw you today, I found myself curiously without the words I had initially intended to speak. So I fashioned an invitation that was wholly improvised.”

Blinking, Will doesn’t understand immediately. When he finally manages to make sense of anything other than the warm body suddenly standing a lot close than before, it’s just in time for his face to heat once more.

“You wanted to spend Halloween with me?” Will asks, just in case he is somehow misinterpreting the other man. “Just me?”

“Just you,” Hannibal smiles, and Will finally meets his eyes for as long as he can manage to.

The strange maroon color is darker with contentment, and once more, Will allows his eyes to take in the man, now with a new light. Hannibal’s high cheekbones are slightly pink, and Will’s brain short-circuits for a short time at the reality that is his friend _blushing_ (nevermind that he himself is as well!) The man looks wholesome, perhaps more human than his mask of perfection would lead one to think. 

Are they seriously standing in the entrance to Hannibal’s dining room right now, blushing like preteens? 

Will looks away startlingly quickly, and Hannibal clears his throat.

“Dinner will be ready in a moment,” he informs Will. “Please, take your seat.”

And with a grand gesture, the man is off, strolling back the way they had arrived to finish preparing dinner. Will, having fully prepared himself for socializing and a party atmosphere, takes a seat and exhales loudly. Dinner with Hannibal Lecter honestly sounds like the best Halloween he could ask for, were he in the mind to.

The holiday turns out not to be that bad at all. They eat a large meal consisting of Hannibal’s personal take on strange, considerably spooky dishes. Afterwards they retire to the den with snifters of whiskey, sitting close upon the soft leather couch. Will learns very quickly that his crush on his friend is far from one-sided, and he’s thankful to himself for accepting the invitation.

Even if it had technically been false.


End file.
